Not Who You Think

Fourteen

Over the next few weeks, Harry worked to add his new sequences of runes to each of the tattoo designs he had created. He had an idea of how it was going to work, he just had to actually do it, and finding the time to do that around everything else he had to do was a challenge; he had to juggle classes, homework, detentions with Umbridge, Occlumency with Snape, his work for the Phantoms, keep up his independent training, and adding the rune sequences to his tattoos.

He was halfway through it by Valentine's Day. He had been planning on spending the day finishing adding the runes to each separate design, and said so to Ron and Hermione, only for Ron to remind him that he had a date with Cho for Valentine's Day. He groaned, letting his head drop into his hands, before sighing.

"I'd forgotten about that."

"Figured," Ron replied.

"I might have a way for you to ditch Cho. But it would require full Golden Boy mask, and might annoy Basilisk," Hermione said. Harry glanced up at Hermione and raised an eyebrow.

"What did you do?"

"Well, Flicker and I were talking, and she mentioned how the Golden Boy would be doing everything he can to get his story out. So, I contacted Rita, and organised for her to interview you next Hogsmeade weekend so you can tell her what happened in the graveyard. Luna already spoke to her dad and her agreed to publish the interview. So, you just have to find a bad way to bring up the fact that you're meeting me for an interview to Cho," Hermione explained.

"That could work. Thanks Streak, you're a lifesaver," Harry said, smiling.

The day came much quicker than Harry would have liked, but there was nothing he could do to stop it; even utilising the time turner wouldn't have prevented the fact that he had to take Cho to Hogsmeade, and he was trying to reduce how often he used the turner as it was; if he used it too much too often, he was in danger of hurting his magic, especially since he used it more than the others. He dressed in the nicest clothes that the Golden Boy owned, since Dumbledore didn't know that he managed to sneak out every summer holiday to buy new clothes, and ran a hand through his hair before heading down to the Entrance Hall where they had agreed to meet. They walked down to Hogsmeade talking about Quidditch and abusing Umbridge, both topics that Harry was happy to engage in and have no possibility of slipping up and revealing something he shouldn't; it had happened once, the year before, and had required a very large memory charm and backup in the forms of Ron and Hermione.

Harry had to admit that, by the time they went in to Madame Puddifoots, that the date was not going well. And he wasn't even trying to make it terrible at that point. And it just got worse from there, and he honestly didn't understand why; he still hadn't brought up Hermione wanting to meet at the Three Broomsticks at 2. Before he knew it, Cho was crying and talking about Cedric and other boys who had asked her out.

"I guess now wouldn't be a good time to bring up that Hermione wants to meet at the Three Broomsticks at 2," he said. Cho choked out a sob before standing up, telling him that she would see him around, and storming out. He stared after her, before shaking his head and standing as well, leaving the money on the table along with their half-drunk drinks. He would never understand girls and their emotions; that wasn't saying much though, considering he barely understood half of his own emotions.

He stepped into the Three Broomsticks and looked around, quickly finding Hermione and Luna sitting at a table together, Rita Skeeter sitting with them, looking worse for wear; unemployment clearly didn't suit her. The next few hours were spent talking to Skeeter about basically everything that had happened in June during the Third Task and the following events in the graveyard. He was careful with what he said though, as he didn't want to cause trouble for any of their new allies, especially the higher up ones like Lucius and the rest of the Elite. He was careful to only name those who would be able to worm their way out of accusations, or those who really weren't useful at all and were easily replaceable, according to the letters from his father. Once Skeeter was satisfied with everything that he had told her, she packed up her stuff and left.